


Stepping Around the Cracks

by Lazchan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:57:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazchan/pseuds/Lazchan
Summary: During a quiet moment in the middle of the night, Yuuri muses on the changes his life has taken.





	Stepping Around the Cracks

It wasn’t that moving to another city--another  _ country _ was difficult. It was something that Yuuri had done before. It wasn’t a new language or rinkmates and expectations. It wasn’t even so much living with  _ Viktor _ , since he had done that for almost a year when Viktor had come to Hasetsu to train him. 

It was being  _ with _ Viktor; with that expectation of a couple and what that entailed. He wasn’t sure how to act around him sometimes; even though he was certain, in the depths of his self, that he wanted it. He did love Viktor--that was never in doubt. It was everything-- being in a foreign country with Viktor, being  _ engaged _ to him, because that was really a thing. 

When Yuuri was laying in bed at night, Viktor sound asleep next to him, he wondered what his younger self would think of his situation. Not only having been noticed by the world renowned Viktor Nikiforov, but to have been coached by him and skating with him… 

… and to have his arm curled around his side, fingertips resting against suddenly hypersensitive skin; his shirt had ridden up at some point. To glance over and see the face relaxed in sleep, hair ruffled and sticking up in odd strands, already messed up from sticking to the pillow. It used to be the poster over his bed he’d look at, the ones on the walls-- more that had appeared over the years. Mari had bought some while he had been in Detroit and he remembered her texting pictures of his room.

_ Your room is turning into a real shrine, _ she had teased.  _ There are more pictures of your skating legend than than there are of you! Don’t forget to send your own posters home, little brother. We like showing you off, too. _

Yuuri hadn’t thought he had been worth showing off, even now he could look back and realize that the simple fact he had still been skating under Celestino for years meant he had been doing well, the fact that he had fans and followers and had made it to the Grand Prix meant he had been doing  _ more _ than well. 

No, at the time-- it had been just himself skating with others above his level, hands always stretching out to reach another goal he had set for himself. To win gold, to show everyone back home that he had done something well, that he hadn’t wasted their money or time or their hopes on him. 

More eyes were on him now-- not all of them were friendly, either. He had gotten more followers on his instagram account and some of the messages were less than kind. It was updated with more pictures of him; both alone and with other people, courtesy of Viktor stealing his phone. Even Phichit hadn’t managed to be so sneaky. 

He already knew what they would think of Viktor’s hair on his pillow, of his hands tightening around Yuuri in his dreams as if he expected the other to run away. They’d already expressed their opinions of the unattainable Viktor being stolen away by Yuuri. 

A lot of them were in Russian and he’d tried botched translations through imperfect programs; a few he had silently handed his phone to Yuri and watched  _ his _ expressions, rather than wait for a translation. Yuri he could trust to tell him the truth, he thought-- Viktor might hide and sugar coat it so that the pain was dampened from sharp words. 

Yuri’s expression had turned from boredom to disgust to-- was that  _ anger _ ? Yuuri waited as Yuri flipped through all of the message and finally Yuri turned to him with a sigh, expression pained, asking if he was  _ sure _ that he wanted to know. That, more than anything had decided Yuuri and he nodded. No one liked hearing the worst about themselves, but Yuuri hated being in the dark more than anything.

Now, he flipped again through the messages that Yuri had translated for him on his phone, making sure his phone was tilted away from Viktor and that the other man was still asleep. Not that Viktor couldn’t read the  _ originals _ , with all the bite of their native language, but Yuuri still wanted to read again what had been said without Viktor awake and worrying.

Some were polite and expressing regrets; a few were actual congratulations. Yuuri filed those away with a smile for when Yuri said nice things to him; he was sure that he heard something like that once or twice from the surly teenager. 

A great deal were not so polite and Yuuri cringed again at the digs at his inability to skate, of taking away a year of Viktor’s time. He took a deep breath, covering his eyes for a moment. He had known about it, he hadn’t been deaf over the last year, after all. He had argued with himself over those very concerns. He had proven to the world that he  _ was _ worthy of VIktor’s attentions, that his skill was above par and that having the personal attentions of Viktor Nikiforov as a coach was worth every minute.

The skating comments he could ignore. If he was staring at his silver medal the entire time he read those comment, then that was his own way of quieting the demons in his mind. 

No, it was the comments about his appearance. His weight and the way he stammered when he was nervous. The way of how cold he was to people; how he didn’t warm up and was only using Viktor to get ahead. How he was  _ an outsider _ and would bring down the Russian pride. How  _ dare _ a Japanese insert himself into the elite Russian team under Yakov Feltsman. 

_ How dare he try and ruin the promising chance of Yuri Plisetsky’s start?  _ It had to be one of Yuri’s Angel’s that sent that comment.  _ Yuri never liked him in the first place and I think he was right! Who needs two Yuri’s? This one is just jealous and wants to take away time that he deserves to skate the best. _

Yuri had almost not translated that one, Yuuri had remembered, but he had been insistent. It helped that Yuri had laughed in derision at the comment.  _ As if you could drag me down, katsudon. _ There had been a pause and then a real apology because of words said long ago that had been spit out in anger and disappointment. 

He felt Viktor turn next to him and he turned off his phone, dropping it to the floor next to the bed. He moved his own hand down to grasp Viktor’s, interlacing their fingers. He needed that support at the moment, that press of palms. A reassurance that no matter what jaded fans would say, he still had Viktor with him.

_ No matter what my own thoughts say…. _ He knew it wasn’t going to be so easy as just hiding away bitter messages, of smiles and hugs and perfect coordination on the ice. 

“Yuuri?” VIktor’s sleepy voice trickled into his ears and Yuuri smiled softly at the pleading tone and he turned fully in Viktor’s arms, smiling down at Viktor and brushed away some of the wayward strands. This was real and this was what he had now-- this was not something he ever think he had deserved, but he was going to keep a hold of it.

Anything worthwhile was worth working hard for and that meant more than just figure skating. He would do all that he could to convince himself -- and damn what the world thought -- that he was meant to be with Viktor.


End file.
